The President, alas, sees monstrous deeds arise:
Wielding spears 'gainst his own house, in wrathful strife,
Fighting for the imperial seal, with furious cries.
Great strife brews chaos, small spurs a deadly knife;
Like dragging vines to hunt foes, the dragnet goes,
Arresting officers throughout the state's wide life.
When justice is done, injustice still prevails;
Where great gain lies, abuse finds its fertile ground.
After all, is the chosen worthy of the crown?
Does he truly deserve the noble throne he's found?
Could there be no party strife, no partisan sound,
We might dream again of peace on earth to be owned.
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